


Faking 'til You Make It

by KivaEmber



Series: Deadly Songbird [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Idols, Established Relationship, Everything is the same as canon except for two things, Feelings Realization, M/M, Secret Relationship, akechi is an idol instead of a detective prince, akira arrives in tokyo a whole month early
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:48:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25597579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KivaEmber/pseuds/KivaEmber
Summary: He was beginning to realise that this thing with Akira wasn’t actually anact.or;Akechi's dumb about emotions, as per usual.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: Deadly Songbird [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1852117
Comments: 8
Kudos: 333





	Faking 'til You Make It

“Can I get a personalised recording?”

Crow didn’t immediately reply, slowly processing that inane request from his _boyfriend_ of all people before finally looking up from his phone. It was a bit of an awkward angle, as he was sprawled lazily on Akira’s bed, his phone propped up on the pillow next to his head, while Akira was sat on the floor next to him, but he still managed to give him a very good glare. 

“...a recording,” Crow repeated flatly, “About what?”

“You know…” Akira held up his own phone. There was a youtube video on the screen labelled ‘Akechi Goro inspiring quotes’, and immediately Crow’s stomach dropped. Fuck, that thing always came back to haunt him. 

“They’re all stock quotes though,” Akira said, and hit play, letting the professionally recorded cutesy voice of Akechi Goro chirp out: 

_“Ganbatte~_ 🥰🥰 _!!_ _You got this~_ 💕✨ _!! I believe in you~_ ✨✨ _!!”_

Crow violently cringed.

“Man,” Akira laughed lightly, hitting pause, “you can practically _hear_ the emojis. How the hell do you do that?”

“With great suffering and practice,” Crow gritted out, hoping his embarrassment wasn’t so obvious, “Do you really want that fake crap personalised just for you?”

“Yeah,” Akira gave him a teasing look, “Just, like, maybe something for when my phone rings?”

Akira always had his phone on vibrate only, and Crow relaxed a little at that. So, not something Akira will have play in public that will make Crow want to crawl into the nearest hole and die. Akira wasn’t a gloryhound either, and while Crow _knew_ Akira waded into his fan blogs to shitstir, he wouldn’t flaunt his personalised recording for fame. 

“Only if you want to,” Akira added when Crow was quiet for too long, “It was just a dumb thought.”

“It’s fine,” Crow said, an idea forming, “I’ll do it.”

_“Really?”_

“Don’t sound so shocked,” Crow huffed, sitting up and holding his hand out for Akira’s phone, “Give it.” 

Akira handed his phone over, still looking mildly surprised and a little pleased. Crow couldn’t help but smile, one his genuine ones, and tucked a loose lock of hair behind his ear as he navigated to Akira’s record function and cleared his throat. 

It was like flipping a switch, alternating between Akechi Goro and Crow. His mask visibly settled over him, his genuine smile shifting into the bubbly, cheerful curl of adorable Goro-chan, his expression softening as his head cocked to the side, fingers tapping his temple in his signature cute pose. Persona successfully shifted, he tapped record and chirped; 

“🥰 _Hey~ Dummy~_ ✨ _!!_ _Answer your phone~_ 😊😚 _!!!"_

His gaze shifted, his adorable image tinging with slight mischief as he finished in complete, perfectly flat deadpan: 

“... Akira.”

He stopped the recording and smirked when he held the phone out. 

“There. One personalised recording.”

Akira, bizarrely, laughed as he accepted his phone back. 

“I should’ve seen that one coming,” he said wryly, finding the voice clip and replaying it. Compared to the professional recording that the youtube video possessed, Akira’s old, hand-me-down phone’s mic was too crackly and futzy to accurately capture Crow’s voice. The timbre was all wrong, making it sound more like an incredibly skilled imitation of Goro-chan, rather than the real deal. It didn’t help that the deadpanned ‘Akira’ that followed sounded like it was dubbed in with Siri. 

“It’s perfect,” Akira sighed fondly. 

“You’re weird,” Crow decided. 

“It’s a genuine showing of your two sides,” Akira said, because he always had to find a way to make meaningless things like this sappy and romantic, “It’s cute. I’m keeping it as my ringtone.”

Crow tried very hard to keep his expression neutral, “Do what you like.” 

Akira’s eyes were bright with mischief as he locked his phone and crawled onto the bed next to him. It was a tight squeeze, his back pressing against the wall and taking a knee to the thigh before they arranged their limbs right. This early into May, it was still cool enough to snuggle without getting too hot. 

“I like both sides of you,” Akira murmured. They were nose to nose, and Crow could see the flecks of dark grey in his eyes, “The cute and the rough.” 

“The ‘cute’ is fake,” Crow reminded him, pushing his fingers into that bird’s nest Akira called hair and clenching loosely, “Goro-chan’s just a thing to market to people.” 

“I think a bit of it is real,” Akira said, not bothered by the fingers combing through his hair a mite too roughly, “Not the super fake smiles or whatever, but… I don’t know. I think a part of you likes being nice and people recognising that.”

Crow couldn’t help but think about Robin Hood hearing that. That Persona was entrenched in his ideas of childhood justice, when heroism was binary and easy to define. Summoning him in the Metaverse was like cradling a small baby bird between his palms, the frantic flutter of its heartbeat, the gentle warmth, but fragile and so easy to crush if he weren’t careful. Robin Hood was brittle, but soft, and desperate for love and so so so quiet compared to the molten, impenetrable fury of Loki. 

The Robin Hood side of him always wished to be appreciated. Once upon a time, Crow did try to be _nice_ and _good_ and _well-behaved,_ but since when has that ever worked out for him? Being ‘good’ was pointless if the rest of you was deficient, and being ‘nice’ opened you up to manipulation or coaxed people to treat you as a doormat. Whatever parts of Crow still craved those scraps of acknowledgement were weak and needed to be purged, not appreciated.

 _akira is a dumbass,_ he decided, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. 

“That’s a naive way of putting it,” Crow said after a too long pause, “I’m only _nice_ to trick people into thinking I’m harmless and naive. They underestimate you, and you can string them along to your tune.”

Akira gave him a look, a mix of wry and concerned, “You’re so jaded.” 

“I’m realistic,” Crow refuted. 

“Well,” Akira leaned in, enough to leave a soft, lingering kiss against his lips, murmuring; “is it an act with me?”

Crow stayed silent. 

But Akira waited patiently, kissing the corner of his mouth, his jaw, the tip of his nose, before pulling back with a gentle curl to his lips. There was no expectation in his gaze - Crow was certain that if he said ‘yes’, there’d be no judgement, but his insides squirmed at the thought of actually saying it. Was it an act with Akira? He couldn’t really say but, _wait_ , he wasn’t even-

“I’m not nice to you,” he blurted stupidly. 

“You are,” Akira scoffed, “You’re a big ol’ softie with me.” 

“I am _not_.”

“You want a list of all the nice things you do for me?” Akira purred teasingly, “Because I’ve got that. A list.” 

Crow eyed him suspiciously, and Akira smirked, a glitter of challenge and satisfaction in his gaze. He looked too confident, which meant he probably _did_ have a list ready to whip out in support of his ‘Crow Is Actually Nice’ theory. He was all but baiting _him_ to say ‘prove it’ and he _was_ tempted to bite. He was certain he could disprove whatever shoddy argument Akira constructed and remind him that Crow’s main appeal was supposedly being an unrepentant asshole. 

( _“I like bad boys, I guess,” Akira said carelessly, but he was fidgeting with his hair, his smile a little shy as he set his coffee down in front of him. Boss had only recently allowed him to serve customers without supervision, and Goro was once more the lone customer this close to closing time._

 _It was a liminal moment in time, these visits. The cute barista who hadn’t heard of Akechi Goro until one of his stupid events showed up on TV while he was in the cafe. The cute barista who had taken the whole thing in stride and continued to argue with him_ why _Hamlet’s plan of revenge was hideously ill-thought out. The cute barista who didn’t bat an eye at Goro’s foul mouth, bursts of frustrated anger, sharp tongue and bitterness._

_Not quite an emotional doormat, but something more comforting, something that hooked its fingers in the gordian knot that was his insides and loosened the tension enough that he could breathe without choking. He was strange and cute and a rough diamond that only Goro knew. He wasn’t sure what to do with this hot, bubbling possessiveness that simmered behind his sternum whenever he thought about this no-name attic boy._

_“I don’t understand you,” Goro finally said, curling his gloved fingers around the coffee cup, “No one really likes ‘bad boys’, especially the ones who lie.”_

_Akira just shrugged, “It makes things interesting.”_

_What a strange thing to say._

_Goro looked at the coffee cup in his hands, then up at the odd barista, and thought. Hm. What if._

_No one had to know, and…_

_“You’re visiting your new school tomorrow, aren’t you?” Goro said._

_“Yeah. Shujin.”_

_“Taking the train?”_

_“Boss said he’ll drive me since it’s a Sunday,” Akira said, and that settled it, really.)_

“Whatever happened to ‘liking bad boys’?” Crow murmured.

“I do like bad boys,” Akira said, “But you’re a bad boy who lies, remember?”

God. He really didn’t understand this guy. 

“Don’t think too hard about it,” Akira said and sat up, untangling himself from the loose embrace they’d ended up in, “I’m hungry. You want some curry?”

Crow considered him for a moment, gaze heavy-lidded and posture lazy. The late afternoon sunlight was filtering through the window, dappling against Akira’s hair and face. Without the glasses, it meant Crow wasn’t blinded by reflected sunlight. 

He looked nice like this. Too nice. 

“I hate curry,” Crow lied outrageously. 

“That’s a ‘yes’, then,” Akira said.

Crow watched Akira stand up and shuffle downstairs, shifting to soak up the lingering body heat left behind on the bed. Sometimes he watched Akira cook - it was oddly meditative - but he was in a lazy mood, languid and dozy in a way he never managed back in his apartment. He was always paranoid a crazed fan would hunt down where he lived and break in. 

Here, in this dusty attic of some no-name barista in some equally unknown cafe, he was safe from that. 

Safe. 

Crow turned that word over in his mind.

He’s never been ‘safe’ his entire life. With his mother, the revolving door of foster homes, Shido, his manager… even when he gained the power of Persona, he wasn’t safe. The Metaverse was dangerous and lonely, possessing pitfalls and monsters not even Loki could fight against. At least he could fight to protect himself there, but out here, in the real world? Shido owned his apartment, Akechi Goro’s life was owned by his managers and insatiable fans, his future… Shido owned that too, in a way. There was no way to fight back except in one, self-destructive way, and it wasn’t time for that yet.

So, no, he wasn’t really _safe_ here, but Akira’s home gave him a very convincing illusion of it. 

That’ll have to do, he supposed. 

He picked up his phone again, unlocking it and navigating to his own voice recorder. He ignored the blinking messages in the notification bar - Shido can wait. 

“I hope you have a good day, Akira~” he crooned into his phone, not quite cutesy Goro, not quite the gruffness of Crow. Something in between. He played it back, and the timbre was all wrong, slightly husky from his low tone, but he preferred it over the chirpy bubbliness of his idol alter ego. His phone’s mic wasn’t any better than Akira’s either, but the name sounded… genuine. His voice purred over the syllables of his name, and he felt weird. It sounded too intimate. Too warm. 

He saved the clip and hesitated over his contacts. Akira’s name was right at the top, his thumb hovering over his name. 

Maybe… not just yet. 

Later. 

Crow locked his phone and closed his eyes, shoving the weird, squirming feelings in his belly in a box to be ignored. 

He was beginning to realise that this thing with Akira wasn’t actually an _act_.

**Author's Note:**

> this au has possessed me... hrfhfh i hope y'all are enjoying my descent into idol goro madness...


End file.
